To Die in Darkness
by DramafanatiC
Summary: When Itachi was recruited by the Akatsuki, he never imagined their true intent.  No slash.


**Sadly, I do not own Naruto or anything involved. :(**

** . .. . .. . .. . **

When Itachi fled Konoha and its blood drenched nightmare, he already knew what he needed to do. There would be no sanctuary for him now, no safe haven from the murder he had been forced to carry out. The news would be out by morning. He was on the lam, and there was only one place where he would have some small measure of protection.

Itachi halted midstride, turning for one last sight of the village he had called home for thirteen years. His hands trembled despite his clenched fists, and a tear escaped his callous mask to trickle warmly down his cheek. He could still hear the screams of the dying as his own blade slid home. The scent of blood burned in his nostrils, nauseating him to the point where he wondered if he was about to faint. The rustic stains of his clan's life force splattered his armor and hands; he had yet to rinse away the evidence of his crime.

Itachi drew in a deep, shuddering breath, willing himself to remain standing. He yearned to collapse, to hide his face and his shame and welcome death with open arms, but that mercy was not to be granted him. He had to continue on, if only for the sake of the one he had sworn to give his very life for.

"_Sasuke..."_

The whispered name escaped his lips, drifting on the breeze to be lost in the stillness of night. A single tear tracked in the path of its predessor, the simple display of emotion speaking more than a thousand words could ever hope to express. Itachi gazed towards Konoha, imprinting the image into his mind to remember forever. He would never forget this night, nor the price he had to pay for the safety of the one he cared for more than anything in the world. The massacre had ransomed the life of his little brother, but at such a cost. The dept could never be repaid.

Twisting aside, Itachi barely moved in time as the nausea reached its peak, the meagre contents of his stomach spewing onto the ground. He wiped his mouth and turned away, closing his eyes against the memories burning his mind. The trails of blood, the cries for mercy, the screams of the dying as they fought for their last breath; all would torment him for the rest of his days.

Itachi ran. He paid no heed to the burning of his mangekyo, yearning only for escape from the images seared into his brain. He ignored the stitch in his side, the quivering in his leg muscles as they threatened to collapse under him. He had expended his chakra in the slaughter of his clan. Only pure adrenaline was keeping him on his feet now.

Itachi stumbled, bruising his shins against the hard and unforgiving earth. The panic subsided, he cautiously assessed himself for injuries and rose to his feet. Whether by luck or a sardonic twist of fate, he was close to the hideout Madara had described to him. The Akatsuki, the organization he had fought against since joining the ANBU, would now serve as his comrades in arms. The thought was painfully ludicrous. A smirk twitched at the corner of Itachi's mouth, the expression freezing even as he pushed open the door to his destiny.

The gloomy interior within was intended to intimidate, the shadows heightened in the slivers of early morning light. Itachi's mangekyo took little time to adapt to the darkness. The faces before him were pitifully easy to read; intrigue, pity, greed, amusement, flickers of emotion of all varieties greeted him. Itachi's own face was a perfect mask, save the slight smile that remained in place as though to deny the agony that ravaged him within. He studied the Akatsuki each in turn, his surreptitious glances filing away the needed information without appearing to stare.

The Akatsuki in turn examined him closely, their thoughts undetermined. The tallest of the group licked his lips as though in anticipation; the hunger in his gaze was easy to read. Itachi's eyes narrowed slightly; he had already discerned that dropping his guard for an instant could cost him his life.

At last the leader of the group strode forward, his face blank as an empty slate.

"This is the one?"

"The last," Madara's voice confirmed behind him. Itachi's hand strayed to his katana; he had never heard the man approach.

"He is the most powerful of his clan; he will be adequate for our plans."

The fiery haired leader assessed Itachi coldly. "He is younger than I anticipated. Is he strong enough for what we require of him?"

"He is a survivor. He will, no doubt, exceed our expectations." Madara stepped closer, his hood shrouding his face. Itachi's hand darted towards his weapons pouch, a kunai slipping into his palm. The leader's eyes shifted, an unspoken message passing between him and Madara.

Without any warning a hand snaked around Itachi's eyes, a second arm clamping his arms to his side in a steely grip. Itachi had no time to react, his reflexes hampered by his previous mission. He struggled against Madara's grasp, a burst of panic granting him strength from unexpected reserves. His efforts were to no avail, however, as his head was yanked to the side, his throat fully exposed. Helpless against whatever came next, Itachi waited in grim anticipation for the kunai to slash across his neck and bring an end to his existence.

"Let us see a demonstration of your theory," the leader said, his footsteps drawing closer. Itachi braced himself, his heart thudding as he renewed his efforts to escape.

"If you struggle, this will be all the more difficult for you," the leader warned, his breath whispering in Itachi's ear. A chill of horror spasmed through Itachi's veins as he tried to imagine the intent hidden behind the words. Cold hands grasped his shoulders, a for a moment complete silence reigned.

Suddenly indescribable agony exploded in Itachi's neck as knife like edges tore through his skin. Icy lips dragged against his flesh as lower incisors drew up and further ravaged his skin. Itachi screamed, his pain insurmounted as iron hands gripped his neck and shoulders, holding him tight as a sucking sensation pulled against his flesh.

Ravenously the leader bit deeper, Itachi's blood trickling down the Uchiha's neck as his sharp cries turned to moans, his strength giving out. Reluctantly the leader pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He nodded to the hooded figure as Itachi fell limp in his grasp.

"He will do."


End file.
